


Distraction

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Gun Violence, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire sleeps through a protest and Enjolras loses his shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer: the typos are my sole possession in this world. Everything else belongs to someone else.

When the alarm went off that morning, Grantaire rolled over and glared at it. It was  _way_  too early to be up, and it took him longer than usual to realize why his alarm was even set for this ungodly hour.

Protest today.

Grantaire groaned and rolled back over, pulling the covers up over his face. He didn’t want to go to the protest today. Truth be told, he couldn’t even remember what exactly they were protesting today, though he was pretty sure that like all of their protests, he didn’t really care one way or the other. It wasn’t like he went to these things because he had passions one way or the other. Only in one direction, in fact: Enjolras.

And their fight the previous night had really only proved that Enjolras wouldn’t care if he was there or not.

It wasn’t really that much different than their normal fights, but Enjolras had been in a foul mood and when he saw Grantaire had folded the flyer Enjolras had given him into a paper airplane, he had yelled at him more than normal. The usual stuff, of course: Grantaire was useless, unhelpful, why was he there, blah blah blah.

Grantaire was used to it.

But Grantaire had made the mistake of laughing at Enjolras, which had only caused things to spiral. As it was, Enjolras had told Grantaire to not bother coming to things if he wasn’t going to at least pretend to be helpful.

So really, was there any reason for Grantaire to be at the protest today?

Grantaire decided that there wasn’t, and so rolled over and went back to sleep.

* * *

 

Enjolras had expected the protest to go to hell; what he hadn’t expected was for someone in the crowd to have a gun, and for shots to be fired.

As soon as they were, things turned to complete and utter chaos.

Police already on the scene to maintain the peace launched into action, with little discernment as to who they were fighting or taking into custody. Bahorel was arrested almost instantly, which was hardly surprising since he also punched a cop in the face, but then Combeferre was taken into custody, which was when everything else went wrong.

They had always planned on escape routes and contingencies for every protest, just in case, but this time it took longer than normal for those who were not arrested to get to the alley used as their rendezvous spot in case Combeferre’s apartment was unavailable, and Enjolras, as the first to arrive, had worked himself into a panic, worried for his friends.

He did a frantic headcount while Joly tended to the minor injuries (Jehan was nursing a black eye with a wide grin and assuring Courfeyrac that he should see the other guy, and Bossuet, it seemed, had punched himself in the face and given himself a bloody nose; everyone else was mostly unscathed). “Where’s Grantaire?” he demanded, once he had counted and recounted.

Everyone exchanged glances, and through his bloody nose, Bossuet offered thickly, “I don’t recall seeing him today?”

“He was there,” Enjolras said impatiently. “He always comes unless he tells me ahead of time that he’s going to be there.” He looked around the alley. “Did no one see him after the gunshots?”

More glances were exchanged, as well as shrugs, and Joly suggested, “Maybe he forgot about the rendezvous…?”

Jehan prodded his bruised cheek and winced. “It’s not like Grantaire to forget,” he said quietly. “Not about something like this.”

“He could have been arrested,” Courfeyrac pointed out. “I didn’t get a good look at all the guys that they were rounding up—”

“No, but I did,” Feuilly interrupted. “Wanted to make sure Bahorel and Combeferre were the only ones. Speaking of, someone’s going to have to post bail since Combeferre isn’t here to do it. But Grantaire wasn’t with them. The only people I didn’t get a good look at…” Feuilly hesitated, looking almost nervously at Enjolras before adding, “The only people I couldn’t see were the ones the paramedics were taking to the hospital.”

Enjolras felt as if his heart had plummeted into his stomach, and some of what he was feeling must have shown on his face because Feuilly quickly said, “But I’m sure Grantaire wasn’t with them. He must’ve forgotten about the rendezvous. Or…something.”

Swallowing hard, Enjolras nodded, once. “Right,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “Everyone should move to the secondary rendezvous point. Joly, you’ll keep looking after everyone who’s injured. Courfeyrac, arrange for someone to post bail. Marius, maybe, if he’s not busy with his girlfriend?”

“And what are you going to do?” Courfeyrac asked bluntly.

Enjolras didn’t meet his eyes. “I have something I need to take care of,” he muttered.

Courfeyrac nodded slowly, though his eyes narrowed. “Everyone, head out,” he ordered. “Like we discussed, one or two at a time. We’ll meet at the Musain.” He waited for almost everyone to straggle out of the alley before asking Enjolras in an undertone, “Just what exactly are you planning on doing, Enj?”

Under most other circumstances, not even Courfeyrac could get away with calling Enjolras “Enj” — just about Grantaire was the only one who could get away with it — and it was a sign of what was going on in Enjolras’s mind that he didn’t say a word about it. Instead, he shook his head and said tonelessly, “I have to find him, I have to—”

“You have to worry about yourself.” Courfeyrac’s words were stark, uncharacteristically so, and he quickly amended, “At least, that’s what Combeferre would say if he was here, and since he’s not, it falls on me to be the voice of reason. The police are going to be looking for you, and you know that you don’t need to be dealing with that on top of everything else. Plus there’s that outstanding warrant that I don’t think has expired yet, and—”

“But it’s Grantaire.”

Whatever else Enjolras could have said, whatever other explanation he could have given, would never have had as much impact as that simple phrase, and though Courfeyrac looked torn, he nodded and took a step back. “Combeferre is going to kill me,” he muttered, and gave Enjolras a tight smile. “Just tell him that I tried, would you?”

Enjolras nodded, though he didn’t smile. “I’ll tell him you more than tried,” he promised, though he was staring off past Courfeyrac as if contemplating the best route to take. Then he glanced back at Courfeyrac. “And I’ll be safe. I promise.”

Without another word, he slipped out of the alley, heading in the opposite direction of Courfeyrac, trying his best not to run, or to draw attention to himself. He had to find Grantaire.

* * *

 

Grantaire was mid-painting when the knocking started on his door, and as such he didn’t hear it right away, since he had his headphones in. But then even the blast of music in his ears couldn’t drown out the insistent pounding at his door and Grantaire yanked the ear buds out of his ears and stalked over to the door, scowling and ready to yell at whichever of his asshole neighbors wouldn’t leave him alone, but when he opened the door, he froze, staring at Enjolras, whose fist was still raised to pound on the door. “Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, confused. “What are you—?”

Enjolras crossed to him and pulled him into a fierce hug, his arms wrapped so tightly around Grantaire that he thought he might suffocate. “I thought I’d lost you,” Enjolras whispered harshly, not relinquishing his hold on Grantaire. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Grantaire tentatively patted Enjolras on the back. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I, uh, I don’t really know what you’re talking about?”

Enjolras released him and took a step back, a frown creasing his forehead. “Today, at the protest. You didn’t meet us at the rendezvous and Feuilly said you weren’t with the arrestees, so I thought…I thought…”

His voice was quickly becoming panicked and Grantaire did the only thing that he could think of, drawing Enjolras close and holding him again. “Hey, it’s ok,” he said, concerned. “I’m fine, I’m here. I wasn’t…I mean, now’s probably not a good time to say this, but, uh, I wasn’t even at the protest today. After our fight last night, I thought…well, that doesn’t really matter, but I didn’t think you really wanted me there, and—”

“I  _didn’t_  want you there,” Enjolras said quietly, and Grantaire froze. Sensing this, Enjolras quickly elaborated, “I mean, I didn’t want you there when the riot broke out, when it all went to hell. When I didn’t know what happened, I, I — I couldn’t  _breathe_ , and, yes, it would have been nice to have your support but I am  _so_  glad you’re safe, more glad than I can even say right now.”

Grantaire managed a small smile and pulled away from Enjolras slightly. “Well, firstly,  _you_  always have my support. Why do you think I show up to half the shit I do? Now, whatever you were protesting today,  _that_  I’d need a  _lot_  more convincing to support, especially since I can’t even remember what it was—”

“Grantaire—” Enjolras started warningly, and Grantaire’s smile widened.

“Now see, that’s what I like to hear.” He squeezed Enjolras’s shoulder and his voice softened. “I am here, and I am safe. And I am very,  _very_  sorry to have given you a fright or whatever. Ok?”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Ok,” he said softly.

Grantaire glanced at him, then looked away, biting his lip. “Dare I ask why you were concerned about me?” he asked, aiming for levity and missing by several thousand miles. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, of course, but you should have known that if you couldn’t find me I wasn’t there.”

“You’re always there,” Enjolras said in a low voice, and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“That didn’t exactly answer my question.”

Enjolras made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and pushed Grantaire against the door, kissing him almost hungrily. Grantaire let out a helpless squeak when Enjolras pulled away just as suddenly. “Does  _that_ answer your question?”

Grantaire started to nod, then shook his head. “Um. No? Not really. Which is to say that I can’t exactly remember the question right now but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t really an answer?” Enjolras sighed and moved as if to kiss him again, but Grantaire stopped him, planting his hand on Enjolras’s chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Kissing you,” Enjolras said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Grantaire made a noise that sounded like something torn between a snort and a whimper and added desperately, “Yes, but  _why_?” When Enjolras just stared at him, confused, Grantaire rolled his eyes and added helpfully, “Normally you can barely stand being in the same room as me. I distract you — admittedly on purpose, sometimes, but still — and I piss you off and you hate that about me and think I’m useless, so why the  _hell_  would you be kissing me?”

Enjolras shook his head. “None of that’s true.” At Grantaire raised eyebrow, Enjolras sighed and continued, “You  _were_  a distraction. Just…not in the way you think. And that was a distraction that I couldn’t afford.”

Grantaire’s eyebrows were drawn together, and he asked slowly, “And what about today changed that? I would have thought I was more of a distraction today than before.”

“I thought I  _lost_  you,” Enjolras repeated. “That…well, it sort of puts things in perspective.”

“For you, maybe,” Grantaire replied coolly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “But I need you to spell it out for me.”

Enjolras’s jaw clenched and he stared at Grantaire. Then he sighed and shook his head. “I…have feelings for you,” he admitted, a blush rising in his cheeks. “And I have for awhile. Feelings that I had no intention of acting on because I knew the Cause was far too important for things of that nature, with you or with anyone else. But then, today…” He trailed off for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “I realized that you not being there, and me trying to ignore my feelings was even more of a distraction than you ever have been, on purpose or otherwise.” He took a deep breath and glanced down. “I realize I haven’t treated you fairly in any of this, and I am sorry about that, but after today, I—”

“Shut up,” Grantaire said softly, balling his fists in Enjolras’s shirt to pull him close. “You had me at ‘I have feelings for you’. Truthfully, you had me long before that.”

Enjolras snorted quietly, resting his forehead against Grantaire’s. “Then why make me go through that whole speech?”

“Because I enjoyed every word of it,” Grantaire said simply before kissing him.

Enjolras crowded Grantaire against the door again, but this time Grantaire pushed back against him, kissing him back just as enthusiastically, until Enjolras’s phone rang. “That’ll be Courfeyrac,” Enjolras said breathlessly, his lips ghosting against Grantaire’s. “Combeferre probably made bail.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened and he half-smiled against Enjolras’s lips. “Combeferre got arrested?”

Though Enjolras smiled as well, he also reluctantly pulled away from Grantaire. “Come with me to the Musain, and I’ll tell you about?” he offered, holding his hand out.

Grantaire took his hand eagerly and squeezed it for good measure. “Sounds like a deal to me,” he said eagerly, though he then hesitated. “Aren’t you going to yell at me about today?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want me to yell at you about today? Isn’t it enough that I went through hell thinking you might have been hurt or killed?” Grantaire swallowed hard and nodded, and Enjolras half-smiled and leaned in as if to kiss Grantaire, pausing with his lips just above Grantaire’s and murmuring, “But if you  _ever_  put me through this again, I will verbally eviscerate you more than you can even imagine. Understood?”

Nodding quickly, Grantaire gave Enjolras a nervous peck on the lips. “Understood.” He squeezed Enjolras’s hand again. “Now tell me what happened with Combeferre.”

Enjolras smiled slightly. “Well, he might have been a bit distracted…”


End file.
